The Dying of the Light
by Leicontis
Summary: There are plenty of ways Harry Potter could have gotten killed over the years, most of them due to actual attempts on his life. Some, however, aren't as blatant nor as purely evil. An exploration of ways everything could have gone horribly wrong.
1. Foreword

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any related trademarks nor copyrights.

Warning up front: This fic is going to be _dark_. I don't mean "ooh I'm angsty Harry watch me become a new Dark Lord and rule over my evil empire" dark, I mean that most or all of the chapters are going to involve things like Harry dying far too young and _not_ getting any sort of second chance or do-over, or Voldemort winning and everything going to Hell. These are not happy stories. Children will die, and good people will suffer terrible fates. I used the "Tragedy" tag for a reason. You have been warned.

Each chapter in this fic is going to be a separate tale, but all on the same theme: Things go horribly wrong. In essence, I'm going to go into various times and ways that everything in the Harry Potter canon could have fallen apart with very little change. I'm not talking about the ones where Harry was nearly killed in the canon, because those are obvious. These will be the less crisis-driven ways that Harry Potter could have broken, failed, or fallen. I will also at least mostly try to avoid scenarios that have been done extensively by others (such as Malfoy and his ilk retaining/regaining power after the Battle of Hogwarts).

There are a lot of possibilities here, to be honest. Harry had way too much loss, pressure, and abuse heaped on him throughout his entire life, and got barely anything in terms of support or comfort from those around him. He was also surrounded by people that, for the most part, very much did _not_ have his best interests in mind.

At least some of these stories will contain at least some of the fallout, but the intent is more to point out what I consider highly plausible ways that canon could have gone horribly wrong with only minimal changes.


	2. Innocence

**A/N: This chapter was inspired by a line in one of the fics I've read that was a response to the "Don't Fear the Reaper" challenge by Reptilia28. If/when I find which such fic it was, I'll edit this to say.**

* * *

Harry was just leaving the washroom after his weekly shower (cold, of course; no sense wasting hot water on a 'freak', after all). It was as he was about to head downstairs to begin his chores that it happened.

Decent parents teach their children from a very early age not to do things that could hurt people. Part of this is obviously trying to instill good behavior as soon and as deeply as possible, but another part is that it takes a while for children to begin to understand the consequences of their actions. Until they have grasped both "doing this could hurt someone" and "hurting people is wrong" a blanket prohibition is needed to keep even otherwise good children from unintentionally causing great harm.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were not decent parents. They weren't decent human beings in general, but it's their parenting in particular that's relevant here.

Dudley Dursley had _not_ been prohibited from doing things that could hurt people. If anything, such behavior had been _encouraged_ by his parents, especially when directed at "the freak". The young boy wasn't a truly evil child; given time and opportunity, he could have grown up into a reasonably good person, appalled by his family's actions towards his cousin. He certainly didn't intend to cause any serious harm, but his only reference for what might happen were cartoons, in which characters might end up looking comically distressed but would always recover by the next scene. Nothing in his limited knowledge and experience told him how badly even simple things could hurt someone.

So it was that Harry Potter, age five, was violently shoved from behind as he stood on the top step of the stairs at #4 Privet Drive. He felt himself falling, tumbling, then his head hit a step at a bad angle and he felt nothing more.

At the top of the stairs, Dudley cackled in amusement at his handiwork. After a minute or so, though, he noticed the Freak just lying there at the bottom of the stairs. "Mum!" he called out, "The Freak is laying about!" He stood watching in gleeful anticipation of the tongue-lashing his worthless cousin was about to receive.

Petunia Dursley stormed from the kitchen. "Boy!" she snapped, "Stop making such a racket and get to work! Of all the useless, ungrateful..." Her tirade trailed off as she saw her nephew sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, unnaturally still, with his head turned at a funny angle.

At first, the emergency personnel bought Petunia's story that her rambunctious nephew had died in an accidental fall. Unfortunately for both her and Vernon, however, one of the responding bobbies felt that something wasn't quite right, and convinced his reluctant captain (an alumnus of Smeltings) to allow him to investigate. "Just to be certain, sir," he'd placated the man. "After all, it's a child that's died; might be trouble if we're not properly thorough about it."

His and his colleagues' return to the Dursley household didn't produce immediate results, but the more they looked over the scene of the boy's death the more that nagging sense of wrongness prodded at them. It took over an hour before one of them realized that it wasn't that there was something there that shouldn't be, but rather that something that should be there wasn't: None of the photos they looked at showed little Harry Potter. Spurred by this realization, they began combing the house with fresh eyes, and began to find a pattern of absences. When they asked about his bedroom, they were pointed to a room filled with broken toys, the lumpy old bed buried under a pile of dusty old playthings. They couldn't find any clothing that clearly belonged to the boy, with everything clearly sized for his much larger cousin. Other than the testimony of the neighbors and the far-too-young body in the morgue, there was nothing to indicate that Harry Potter had ever lived at #4 Privet Drive.

These discrepancies were enough to bring far more focused investigation. A records check showed another pattern of absences; in this case nearly all of the paperwork that would normally be associated with an adoption was missing, as were records of standard vaccinations and health checks, and almost everything related to the boy's parents. When police searched the house more thoroughly, the cot in the boot cupboard was particularly damning.

In the end, Vernon and Petunia Dursley were convicted on charges of abuse and neglect. The Crown Prosecutor didn't bring any charges related to young Harry's death, as in spite of how the child had been treated there was still no proof that his fall had been anything but accidental. When it was discovered just how poorly-behaved and ill-adjusted their son was, Dudley was placed in a home for troubled children in the hopes that he was young enough to be taught how to behave in society.

It took over two years of both growth and therapy for Dudley to realize the truth and horror of what it was he'd done to his cousin. When his anguished sobs had calmed enough for him to explain to the therapist he'd been speaking to, he was assured that it was covered under patient confidentiality. To the man's surprise, the child had fixed him with an intense gaze and _demanded_ that the proper authorities be informed.

Dudley's account was enough to revisit the case of his cousin's death, and his testimony to the coroner and police served as the first step in what would become a lifelong quest to salve his feelings of guilt.

His new understanding of life, and of its tragic fragility, pushed the previously lazy boy to become a far more enthusiastic student as he began to strive towards his goal of becoming a social worker. He would seek to atone for his cousin's senseless death by dedicating his own life to helping other children in bad homes and counseling those heading down the same path he'd been treading. The moment it was legal for him to do so, Dudley changed his surname to Evans.

On the magical side, word of the fate of the Boy-Who-Lived soon spelled the death of Albus Dumbledore's political clout and social standing. He and those closely aligned with him, such as Minerva McGonagall and Arthur Weasley, were soon left as unemployed and unemployable social pariahs. This, coupled with an upswell of anti-Muggle sentiment due the the ultimate cause of the last Potter's misfortune, fed tremendous support and influence to Lucius Malfoy and his allies. By the time several years later that Lord Voldemort returned, he was openly welcomed by Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge.

Coming as it did after years of ever-escalating discrimination and abuse against all those not part of the blood-purist agenda, this was the spark that ignited the Magical British Civil War. Virtually every non-Dark magical species (and even some that _were_ considered Dark, such as many werewolves) banded together with the oppressed witches, wizards, and squibs to form a resistance. Goblins made war upon wizards for the first time in three hundred years, collapsing the magical side of the nation's economy.

After nearly a decade of bloody guerrilla warfare and even bloodier reprisals by the Ministry, Voldemort was finally defeated in a mass duel against Amelia Bones and a force of former Aurors and disillusioned former members of the Order of the Phoenix, his soul trapped in amber thanks to a modified version of an ancient spell found in the goblins' archives by Hermione Granger. Even with their Dark Lord gone, the Dark Ministry continued on for another three years before finally falling to opposition forces in the deadliest battle of the war. Magical Britain was finally free, but it would be well into the first decade of the twenty-first century before it once again had a stable government and economy, and generations before it could once more be considered relevant on the international stage.

* * *

 **A/N: So yeah, there's my first shot. Dudley becomes a much better person and helps a lot of children, but Magical Britain gets pretty thoroughly devastated and a LOT of innocent people suffer and die. All this because Vernon and Petunia never bothered to tell their son "no" and young children don't think about or understand all the potential consequences of their actions.**

 **Also, I'm intending for at least the first few chapters to focus on things that are theoretically positive. My working titles for the next two chapters are "Kindness" and "Hope" - guess what helps lead to Harry's deaths in those chapters, eh?**


	3. Kindness

**Disclaimers/warnings in Chapter 1**

* * *

Daedalus Diggle was out sightseeing in Muggle London when he first spotted the boy. Messy black hair just like James Potter's, emerald green eyes behind round glasses, and a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead - it was the Boy-Who-Lived! The seven-year-old was standing alone outside a sweet shop, watching the crowds pass by.

"Why, Harry Potter as I live and breathe!" Diggle said as he approached the boy, who turned at the mention of his name, "Such a pleasure to meet you, lad! An honor, even!"

Green eyes scrunched up in confusion. "I- I'm sorry, sir, have we met?"

Daedalus laughed. "Not since you were a babe in your mother's arms. I was part of... well, let's call it a bird-watching club with your parents for a couple of years. I remember James grinning like a loon the first time they brought you to one of our meetings, and sweet Lily barely able to take her eyes off you." He smiled wistfully at the memory of his lost comrades.

"You knew my parents?" The question was so quiet, so hesitant, that he nearly didn't hear it.

"Indeed I did. James Potter was a good man, talented too, and he and his friends always brought us a bit of laughter even in the darkest of times. Lily was fierce and fiery and full of love and life, the most brilliant wi- er, woman of her generation. They were both so very in love with each other, and so very, very brave..."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you must have confused me with someone else. I mean, my name is Harry Potter, but my parents were worthless layabouts living off the dole like parasites on good hardworking people until they died in a drunken car crash my father caused." The last part of his statement was recited fluidly, as if by rote.

Daedalus was aghast. "Is that what you've been told?" he asked angrily, receiving a frightened nod in return. "That's a filthy lie! James and Lily Potter were your parents, without a doubt - you've got James's face and hair with Lily's eyes, and more than that I know for a fact that their son got a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead the night they died. You _are_ their son, and they were certainly not drunken wastrels! James and Lily were two of the kindest, most loving, most courageous people it has ever been my pleasure to know, and they loved you with all their hearts."

A look of wonder and hope had grown on the child's face, only to fall away as he slumped. "And they're dead," he said defeatedly.

Diggle knelt beside the boy, reaching out to gently pat his shoulder. Harry stiffened at the touch, probably not used to such contact from a stranger. "Don't you worry about that, lad," he said softly, reassuringly, "I'm sure wherever they are, they're still loving you and proud of you, and you'll meet them again some day. A very wise man, one of the wisest I know, told me once that to the well organized mind, death is nothing but the next great adventure. Knowing them, James was probably ready to charge straight in with a grin on his face before Lily shook her head, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and kept his feet on the ground."

His words of reassurance and comfort must have reached the lad, as his young face was set in a beatific smile as tears began to well in his eyes. He seemed somehow indescribably lighter, as if some tremendous invisible burden had been removed.

Not wanting to cause a scene, Daedalus gave him one last gentle pat before standing to go on about his day. He didn't see the thoughtful look that came across the boy's face, nor the eager and determined one that followed. Neither did he see the boy step away from the sweet shop.

He certainly _did_ hear the screech of tires on pavement, the loud thump of an impact, and the chorus of horrified screams. Like everyone else in the area, he turned immediately towards the source of the commotion. His heart froze upon seeing the unnaturally still form of Harry Potter crumpled in front of the stopped Muggle lorry.

The minutes that followed would always be a bit of a blur. Rushing forward. Drawing his wand in full view of a crowd of Muggles in a desperate attempt to do something, _anything_ for the poor boy. Hearing over and over variations on the statement, "He just stepped out, right in front of it!" Being hauled away by an Auror as Obliviators worked to cover his public use of magic and a Healer sadly covered the last Potter with a white cloth.

Later, some Prophet muckraker would somehow find out from the DMLE investigators the last words of the Boy-Who-Lived:

"Mum, Dad, I'm coming."


End file.
